Puzzle Pieces
by Retribution-Comes
Summary: Combeferre is a doctor at a mental disorder home and Enjolras, who has two major mental disabilities, is his patient.
1. Chapter 1

"A revolution." Enjolras said, looking at all of his friends gathered at the café Musain. "We will rise up and take this city for liberty and for equality! Those who claim to be higher than the citizens of Paris shall fall and a new age shall dawn. We will see our country reborn!"

A cry of agreement rose up from the students present. They huddled around tables and began to talk excitedly of a new republic and of preparations for a battle. Enjolras stepped down off of his chair and was immediately greeted by Courfeyrac.

"That was amazing, Enjolras. How do you just ad lib these things?"

Enjolras shrugged and looked at the clock on the wall. "I guess I was just born with the talent."

Courfeyrac followed his gaze and looked at the clock. "What's wrong?"

Enjolras sighed. "Where is Combeferre?"

Courfeyrac looked around. "I thought he was here."

"He's not." Enjolras stared at the clock and watched the time turn from 2:00 to 2:01. "He's late."

* * *

"Shit, I'm late." Combeferre said, scooting his chair out from the table and gathering his lunch tray.

One of his friends looked up at him. "Come on, man, that guy can wait at least another minute! Let Noémi finish her story!"

"No, Marc, it's fine. I'll tell it later. It's important Guillaume get's there on time." Noémi looked at Combeferre. "Go, it's fine."

Combeferre smiled and nodded. "Thanks. Sorry, guys, we'll talk more tomorrow but I really have to go." He turned around, threw his Styrofoam tray in the trashcan and walked quickly out of the small break room.

Combeferre slipped back into his white coat and grabbed his clipboard from the reception desk.

"Hey, Guillaume." The receptionist said.

"Hello, Anne, sorry I can't talk, I'm late." He took a few steps forward then turned around and stood in front of the desk.

Anne smiled. "Red pen?"

Combeferre nodded. "Yes, please."

Anne held one up and Combeferre took it with a smile. "Thanks."

"You are really late." She said.

Combeferre nodded and started walking down the hallway. "I know, I know. Today is not my day."

* * *

Combeferre opened the door to the room and hesitantly entered. "Enjolras?"

The room wasn't very large but it was big enough to hold a single bed, a desk, a dresser and a small table with two chairs around it. The taupe colored walls were covered with maps, flags and a few framed paintings. One was _The Storming of the Bastille_, another was _Scène de Juillet 1830_ and the third was Liberty Leading the People. All that was hung on the walls was done so with careful measurement and placement so that the walls didn't look clustered but perfectly neat and orderly. The window in the corner of the room was open and a slight breeze rustled the French and red flag that were also hanging on the wall.

Enjolras was standing in the middle of his room gazing up at the clock on the wall. "2:05 …"

"I know, I apologize for being late." Combeferre looked down at his clipboard. "How are you feeling today?"

"It's … odd …" Enjolras said.

Combeferre looked up. "What's odd?"

"The time, you are supposed to come at 2:00 and that's all even but you came at 2:05 and five is an odd number. You are supposed to come on an even number." Enjolras started fidgeting with the strings on his red hoodie and his breathing sped up. "It's odd …"

Combeferre nodded. "It's okay, Enjolras. Would you like me to leave and come back in at 2:06?"

Enjolras nodded.

"Okay, I'll be right back." Combeferre left the room.

Enjolras rocked back and forth in his feet and looked up at the clock. "Five is an odd number. Enjolras has eight letters, E-N-J-O-L-R-A-S, eight. But Jacob has five letters, J-A-C-O-B, five. And I don't like that." He raised his voice so Combeferre could hear outside the door. "I don't go by my first name, Combeferre, because it has five letters!"

Combeferre's voice came back muffled. "You are absolutely right, Enjolras. How many letters does my name have?"

Enjolras, still starring at the clock, counted, "G-U-I-L-L-A-U-M-E, Guillaume. That has nine so that's no good. But Combeferre has ten, C-O-M-B-E-F-E-R-R-E, ten."

The clock turned to 2:06 and Enjolras relaxed. "It's even now."

Combeferre opened the door and came back into the room. "So, Enjolras, how are you doing today?"

Enjolras nodded. "Plans for the revolt are going well. Grantaire was annoying me again today."

Combeferre scribbled some things down on his clipboard, "And Grantaire is the one that always drinks?"

Enjolras nodded and started to rearrange all the items on his desk so they were in a straight line. "He drinks, like my dad used to drink."

"And sometimes your dad hurt you when he was drunk right?" Combeferre asked softly.

Enjolras made a distressed noise and shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it, Combeferre. Don't make me talk about it today, please."

Combeferre nodded. "That's fine. We won't talk about it."

"Courfeyrac liked my speech today." Enjolras said, finishing up his rearranging.

Combeferre stopped writing and squeezed his eyes shut. "Did he?"

"Yes." Enjolras moved on to reorganizing his books on the shelf above his desk. "Hey, Combeferre, when is Courfeyrac going to come visit me again?"

Combeferre sighed, still not opening his eyes. "He can't come and visit you anymore, remember? We talked about this."

Enjolras stopped his task and started rocking back and forth on his feet. "Cars." He whispered.

"Yes, because of cars." Combeferre opened his eyes and wrote something down on his clipboard.

Enjolras turned and looked at the clipboard Combeferre was writing on. "Red pen." He muttered. "I like your red pen, Combeferre. Red is a great color … ff0000 is my favorite shade." Enjolras narrowed his eyes. "You are wearing a bracelet today." He walked over and touched Combeferre's left wrist. "That's a blue bracelet and you don't usually wear it."

Combeferre looked at the plastic blue bracelet on his wrist. "It's April, I wear it every April, remember?"

Enjolras's blue eyes scrutinized the bracelet as he spoke absentmindedly. "Yes … April. A-P-R-I-L … a dismal five letter word. Why do you wear it every April?"

"I wear it for you, Enjolras." Combeferre said.

Enjolras smiled. "For me." He repeated.

"Yes."

Enjolras read the words on the bracelet. " 'Autism Awareness'." He bit his lip and rocked back and forth on his feet. "Autism, A-U-T-I-S-M, six letters."

"It's an even number. It's good." Combeferre said.

Enjolras nodded. "It's good. It's good because you are my friend and you still like me and you don't yell … and you don't hit."

Combeferre caught Enjolras's eyes. "I will _never _hit."

Enjolras looked at him. "Never hit."

Combeferre smiled and put his clipboard under his arm. "So, Enjolras, who was exiled to Elba in 1814?"

Enjolras made a disguised face. "Napoleon Bonaparte."

"Who stormed the Bastille in 1789?"

Enjolras smiled. "The people of Paris."

"Who wrote The Social Contract?"

"Jean-Jacques Rousseau."

"Who has read The Social Contract far too many times?"

Enjolras giggled. "Me."

"And who cares about you more than anything in this whole world?"

Enjolras smiled. "Combeferre."


	2. Chapter 2

On April 12th Combeferre received some very distressing news.

"_Two days_?" Combeferre walked around the reception desk and looked at Anne's computer screen. "Do you know for sure?"

Anne pointed to Enjolras's name in the screen, "See, this is his row and all the columns are the days." She pointed to the two consecutive blank lines, "Every time any of the patients enter into the dining hall and put in their code, it transfers to these columns and puts an X in for each meal." She looked up at Combeferre. "Enjolras hasn't had any X's for the past two days."

Combeferre shook his head. "He hasn't eaten in two days …"

Anne shrugged. "It could be that he's forgetting to put in his code."

"No, Enjolras always remembers to do that." Combeferre sighed and looked at the clock on the computer. "I should go talk to him."

"Aren't you off duty? It's 6:00."

Combeferre walked back around the reception desk and towards Enjolras's room. "Yeah but this is important."

* * *

"Eating is important to your health, Enjolras." Joly said with concern.

Enjolras sighed. "I am well aware of that, but it is unsafe to enter into the dining hall."

"Unsafe?"

Bossuet sat down in front of Enjolras. "Yeah, I heard the police force is spreading their surveillance. They are definitely in the dining hall."

Enjolras sat back in his chair. "There is no other explanation. They must have found out that we frequent the dining hall and that's why they changed everything."

Courfeyrac came and stood beside Enjolras. "So, what, are you going to starve yourself?"

"Well, I certainty cannot go back in there … not with those numbers." Enjolras shook his head. "Things are getting far more dangerous than I expected."

* * *

Combeferre knocked four times on Enjolras's door and then entered. "It's me Enjolras."

Enjolras was sitting at his small table surrounded by papers. He turned and looked at Combeferre in confusion. "It's past 6:00, Combeferre. You leave and go home at 6:00 and then come back in the morning at 7:00. You are still here, why are you still here?"

Combeferre walked over to Enjolras's table. "I'm still here because I need to ask you a question."

Enjolras looked up at his clock worriedly. "But if you stay, you run the risk of leaving at 6:03 or 6:05 or 6:07 or 6:09—"

Combeferre sighed. "I don't always leave right at six on the dot, Enjolras."

Enjolras's eyes widened and his breathing became suddenly uneven. "You … you don't? You sometimes leave at 6:03 or … or 6:05?" He looked desperately at Combeferre. "Please say that you always leave at 6:00 on the dot, Combeferre. Can you please say it?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Combeferre looked at Enjolras in the eyes. "I always leave at 6:00 on the dot, okay? Always."

Enjolras looked down at his papers and started stacking them and muttering, "Combeferre always leaves at 6:00."

Combeferre motioned to the second chair at the table. "Is this seat taken?"

Enjolras nodded. "By Bossuet but he got up so you can sit now, Combeferre."

"Thank you, Enjolras." Combeferre sat down, folded his hands and put them on the table.

Enjolras mimicked the motion and looked at him sternly. "This is a serious conversation. Our hands are folded so that we won't fidget."

"You are correct." Combeferre took a deep breath and then looked directly at Enjolras. "You need to tell me the truth, okay? Have you been to the dining hall in the past two days?"

Enjolras immediately looked away from Combeferre and started wringing his hands. "Maybe we can talk about something else." He said quietly.

Combeferre shook his head. "No, Enjolras, you need to answer this question. Either yes or no." He already knew the answer. Looking at Enjolras now he could see that he was paler than usual, his red T-shirt looked a little too big and there were dark circles under his eyes. Combeferre also realized that in the past few days he'd checked up on him, Enjolras was never standing, he was always sitting down and Combeferre guessed that he was maybe too weak to stand.

Enjolras looked hesitantly up and Combeferre through his blonde curly hair, afraid to speak.

"Yes or no, Enjolras. Have you been to the dining hall in the past two days?"

"Yes."

"You _have_ been going?"

"No."

Combeferre sighed. "You need to give me a straight answer."

"Please, don't yell." Enjolras squeezed his hands together so his knuckles went white.

"I'm not yelling." Combeferre closed his eyes and once again took a breath. "I'm going to ask one more time, okay? Have you been to the dining hall in the past two days?" He opened his eyes and found Enjolras shaking his head. "Thank you for answering me. Why haven't you been going?"

Enjolras bit his lip and rocked back and forth in his chair. "They changed my number and I don't think that I like the change. It's not good."

Combeferre frowned. "They changed your code?"

Enjolras nodded. "I think that the police did it."

"The police didn't do it, Enjolras. There are no policemen here."

"Combeferre says no policemen." Enjolras muttered. "Bossuet, Joly, Bahorel, Grantaire, Courfeyrac and Feuilly, Combeferre says no policemen."

"Enjolras, did you forget your code?" Combeferre asked, trying to regain his attention.

But Enjolras shook his head. "No, no, I don't forget, Combeferre. My old code was 0242 and that was a nice code with nice numbers" He drew in a shaky breath. "I don't like the new one, Combeferre."

"What's your new one?"

Enjolras made a distressed noise and blinked a few times before answering. "515."

Combeferre sighed and muttered "Oh my god …"

Enjolras's breathing became even more uneven as he spoke. "515 … that's only three numbers, Combeferre … and … and five times one is five and then five times five is twenty five."

"Enjolras-" Combeferre started

"Five plus one is six but six plus five is eleven and I can't use that number, Combeferre. I can't use 515." Distraught tears started to form in Enjolras's eyes and he furrowed his eyebrows and started to rock back and forth in his chair. "Don't make me use 515, please. I don't want to use it."

Combeferre reached out and rested two of his fingers on Enjolras arm. Enjolras immediately stopped rocking and looked at Combeferre's fingers. "Two." He muttered.

"Enjolras, we are going to get your number changed." Combeferre said, placing four fingers on his arm.

"Four." Enjolras said. "You are going to change my number."

"Yes, I am going to change it back to 0424." Combeferre patted Enjolras's arm with his four fingers. "It will never be changed again after that."

Enjolras sniffed and nodded. "Thank you, Combeferre."

"You don't have to thank me, mon frère."

"Mon frère." Enjolras repeated. "We are not related, Combeferre."

Combeferre smiled. "Not by blood, no, but we can still be brothers."

Enjolras returned his smile. "I've never had a brother."

"Well, you do now." Combeferre stood up. "Do you want to come to the dining hall and get something to eat?"

Enjolras nodded and stood up slowly and as he did, Combeferre saw that he was struggling.

"Enjolras, do you want to stay here and let me bring you food? I'm afraid that you are going to fall down if you try to walk."

"My head hurts, Combeferre, and so does my stomach."

Combeferre nodded. "That's because you haven't eaten in two days."

"Can I sit back down?"

"Yes, of course. I'm going to bring you some food, okay?"

Enjolras sat and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. "Thank you, mon frère."

* * *

"So, does Jacob have any friends here? I mean, besides you?" Noémi asked, walking along the dinner line with Combeferre as he gathered some food for Enjolras.

"Not really." Combeferre grabbed a small bowl of red Jell-O and placed it on the tray. "All of his friends are in his mind."

Noémi nodded. "Oh, that's right. He's autistic and –"

"Schizophrenic." Combeferre finished. "Yeah. He has imagined up this whole group of friends and he thinks that they are all going to rise up and revolt against the government."

Noémi nodded. "Wow, that's … interesting. Our government could probably use some revolting against."

Combeferre smiled. "Yeah. It's not as bad as Enjolras is imagining it to be though. I mean, we still have a King and oppression and inequality still exist but Enjolras thinks it's much worse than what I actually is."

"Well, it's not like he is ever going to get the chance to actually revolt." Noémi said, with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"That's true." Combeferre finished filling the tray and the two started walking towards the dining hall door. "But you should read the speeches he writes, Noémi. They … they are absolutely incredible. Sometimes I wonder …" He trailed off.

"Who he could have been?"

Combeferre looked down at the tray of food in his hands. "Yeah. But he is the way he is and that is incredible too."

They walked about of the dining hall and Combeferre turned to go back to Enjolras's room.

"I'm going go home, Guillaume." Noémi said, stopping in her place. "But I have a suggestion."

Combeferre turned around. "A suggestion?"

"Yeah, I was thinking that it might be better for Jacob if he had a friend here, I mean, someone who was here all the time."

"You mean like one of the other patients?"

"Uh huh. Someone who could maybe prevent something like this from ever happening again. Someone to help him."

Combeferre shrugged. "Do you have someone in mind? Enjolras is a very forthright person, if he doesn't like someone he'll say it and never see them again."

Noémi nodded. "I have no doubt. But yes, I do have someone in mind, my patient actually. He's the sweetest person you will ever meet, he's very caring and friendly, he loves books and writing poetry but he is also willing to be very daring, which Enjolras might connect with."

"Sure, I have no objections. Enjolras would benefit from having a real friend besides me and Courf—" Combeferre stopped himself and quickly tried to recover. "What's his status?"

"He has a mild form of autism along with a more severe case of ADHD. If you want they could meet tomorrow, outside at 1:00."

"Better make it 2:00 but that sounds great." Combeferre started walking towards Enjolras's room, when he remembered something and turned back. "Oh, and what's your patients name?"

Noémi smiled. "Jean Prouvaire."


	3. Chapter 3

Enjolras was quiet on the walk to the courtyard, which troubled Combeferre. Usually he always had something to say so this silence was starting to make Combeferre feel like maybe having Enjolras meet someone knew wasn't a good idea.

"Enjolras, are you feeling better today?" He asked, trying to break the silence.

Enjolras wrung out the end of his T-shirt and nodded quickly. "Yes, better today, Combeferre, thank you for asking."

"You're welcome. I just want to make sure you are okay." Combeferre glanced at him and saw that he was wearing an expression that he didn't like the look of. Enjolras looked very distressed and he seemed to only grow more so as they walked. Combeferre walked around in front of Enjolras and stopped.

Enjolras stopped in his tracks and looked up at Combeferre, confused. "You're standing in front of me."

"What's wrong, Enjolras? I can tell something is bothering you." Combeferre caught his eye. "You can tell me."

Enjolras rocked back and forth on his feet and said, "I don't want you to leave, Combeferre." Tears welled up in his eyes and he quickly brushed one away as it fell. "Please, don't leave."

Combeferre shook his head and placed four of his fingers on Enjolras's arm. "I'm not leaving, Enjolras. What gave you that idea?"

Enjolras sniffed and looked up. "You are making me meet someone new. Meeting new people means older friends go away. Everyone always leaves."

Combeferre rubbed Enjolras's arm. "No, no, no. I'm not leaving. You are meeting Jean Prouvaire today so you can have a friend around to go eat with you and walk around with you when I have other duties to preform. But I'm still coming back here at 7:00 every day."

Enjolras took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, Combeferre. That makes me feel better."

Combeferre smiled. "I will never leave you, Enjolras. Ever."

"And I will never ever leave you either, Combeferre." Enjolras returned the smile.

Combeferre nodded resolutely. "Good. Now let's go meet Jean Prouvaire."

* * *

Combeferre spotted Noémi as soon as they walked outside. She was standing under one of the bigger trees in the courtyard and waved at them when she saw the two walking towards her.

Combeferre introduced Enjolras to Noémi when they met up with each other. "Enjolras, this is Noémi, she's a friend of Jean Prouvaire's."

Noémi stuck out her hand. "Hello, Enjolras."

Enjolras looked at the hand and then hesitantly tapped it with four of his fingers. Noémi looked inquisitively at Combeferre.

"Your hand. You are holding out five fingers." Combeferre explained. "He doesn't like odd numbers." Combeferre looked at Enjolras. "Enjolras, you need to return Noémi's greeting. Be polite."

Enjolras nodded. "Hello … um …"

"Noémi." She repeated with a smile, dropping her hand.

"I know." Enjolras looked at Combeferre, pleadingly. "But …

Combeferre looked down at the ground. "Her last name is Marotte. So why don't you just call her Mademoiselle?" Combeferre looked up at Noémi. "If that's okay."

Noémi nodded. "Of course."

"Well!" Combeferre clapped his hands together. "Where is Jean Prouvaire?"

Noémi lifted her head and called up to the tree. "Jehan! Come down and meet Enjolras!"

There was a fit of giggles and then some branch rustling and finally a younger man jumped from the lowest branch down onto the ground. Jean Prouvaire stood up and brushed off his light blue, black flower embroidered, skinny jeans, which contrasted greatly with the T-shirt he was wearing. It was yellow, green and grey and had a large picture of a mushroom cloud covering it, which didn't seem to fit the initial flower theme of his pants. He was shorter than Enjolras and maybe a few years younger, he had light curly brown hair, which had various beads and feathers stuck in it and his eyes were a very bright shade of green. However, the first thing Enjolras was drawn to look at was the younger man's feet … and the absence of shoes or socks.

"You aren't wearing any shoes." Enjolras commented. "Why aren't you wearing any shoes? You're supposed to put on shoes when you go outside."

Jean Prouvaire laughed. "Shoes are an option! I like to choose the option where they are off! What if you are walking along one day and you happen to pass by a nice little stream? Well, you can't very well waste time taking off your shoes and socks and _then _walk in it! No. It would be easier if you didn't have shoes on at all and then you are free to do what you please, when you are pleased to do it!"

Enjolras took a small step back. Combeferre smiled a little at the overwhelmed look on his friends face. Jean Prouvaire was certainly different from Enjolras in more ways than one.

"I think that maybe it's okay for us to disagree on a few things." Enjolras said, rather quietly. "I quite like shoes."

Jean Prouvaire grinned and pointed down to Enjolras's feet. "I like your shoes very much! Red is a very bold color and Converse a very popular brand. I think you …" Jean trailed off as his attention was suddenly drawn to a bird that had just landed on a near by tree. He cocked his head slightly to the left and said, "Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird. No hungry generations tread thee down; the voice I hear this passing night was heard in ancient days by emperor and clown."

"Jehan?" Noémi gently touched his arm.

"John Keats, _Ode to a Nightingale_." Jean said, still looking at the bird.

"Jehan, why don't you properly introduce yourself to Enjolras?" Noémi said, turning him away from the bird.

"Okay!" Jean Prouvaire turned back to Enjolras. "Hello, my name is Jean Prouvaire but my friends call me Jehan! Jehan has more of a flourish to it, you see, so I like it better than Jean. Noémi said your name was Enjolras. Is that your first name or last name? It sounds like a last name but people don't usually go by their last names in this day and age. Why do you go by your last name, Enjolras? And what is your first name?"

Enjolras glanced at Combeferre and then back at Jean Prouvaire. "Jacob is my first name but I don't like that name because it has five letters in it and five is not an even number. Enjolras has eight letters and eight is even so I go by Enjolras." He bit his lip and started to rock back and forth on his feet. "I … um … I want to be your friend Jean—"

"Jehan!" Prouvaire said with a smile. "My friends call me Jehan."

Enjolras made an anxious whine and shook his head. "That name has five letters."

Prouvaire nodded. "That's okay, Enjolras. How about you call me … Jehan Prouvaire!" He smiled widely. "Together they have fourteen letters and fourteen is an even number!"

Enjolras counted the letters in his head and a small smile spread across his face. "Yes. Jehan Prouvaire is fourteen letters." He turned to Combeferre. "J-E-H-A-N space P-R-O-U-V-A-I-R-E is fourteen letters all together, Combeferre."

Combeferre nodded. "You are absolutely right, Enjolras."

Jehan bounced up and down and giggled. "Yay for new friends!"

Noémi smiled and said, "Well, Jehan, it's time for you to go see Doctor Pique but maybe you and Enjolras can go to dinner together tonight."

"Okay!" Jehan turned back to Enjolras. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Enjolras nodded. "Okay, Jehan Prouvaire, I'll see you later."

Noémi nodded a goodbye to Combeferre and the two starting walking back towards the main building, all the way Jehan held Noémi's hand and pointed out different birds and butterflies in the garden.

"Do you think he'll make a good friend, Enjolras?" Combeferre asked.

"I think that maybe he will." Enjolras shrugged. "Not as good a you but still, a good friend. I don't like that he doesn't wear shoes though."

Combeferre laughed. "Well, you don't like odd numbers and he doesn't like shoes."

"Hey, Guillaume!" A voice called out to their right. An orderly was running up to them with a sheet of paper in his hand.

"Combeferre." Enjolras corrected under his breath. "Guillaume had nine letters. G-U-I—"

"Shhh, Enjolras." Combeferre calmed him, gently. "Hey, Alain." Combeferre said when the orderly had made his way over to the two. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I got a call from some guy today and he set up a meeting with Jacob—"

"Enjolras." Enjolras interrupted.

Combeferre turned to him. "Stop. Let Alain talk."

"Sorry." Enjolras said, biting down on his lip.

Combeferre turned back to Alain. "So, who was this guy?"

Alain looked at the paper in his hand. "Uh, a Leon Enjolras."

Enjolras made a loud, distressed noise and started to back away. "No, no, no. I don't want to speak to a Leon Enjolras. No."

Combeferre turned around. "Enjolras it's okay, he just wants to talk."

Enjolras covered his ears. "No, no, no, no, no, Combeferre. Not Leon Enjolras."

Combeferre gently grabbed his arms and pulled them down to his side. "Enjolras, I'm not going to let him hurt you."

"Leon Enjolras is stronger than you, Combeferre." Enjolras struggled to break free of Combeferre's grip. "Leon Enjolras will hurt you too."

"Enjolras, stop. Calm down."

"I don't want to talk to him!"

Combeferre turned to Alain. "Call the others, tell them we have a code white."

Alain nodded and pulled out his radio and started talking to someone on the other line.

Combeferre turned back to Enjolras who had started silently sobbing and shaking out his hands. "Enjolras, who was exiled to Elba in 1814?"

Enjolras shook his head.

"You know who. Napoleon Bonaparte." Combeferre tried to speak as calmly as possible. "Who stormed the Bastille in 1789? The people of Paris did, you know that too."

Enjolras started to hyperventilate; he started to fall to the ground but Combeferre caught him and gently lowered him down into his knees. "Who wrote The Social Contract, Enjolras?"

"L-leon Enjolras."

Combeferre shook his head. "No, Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Who has read The Social Contract far too many times? You have, Enjolras."

"I have." Enjolras whispered through his strained breaths. "Not Leon Enjolras. Me."

Combeferre nodded. "Right. And who cares about you more than—"

His words were cut off by the small group of orderlies that suddenly surrounded Enjolras to help him calm down. Combeferre stood and backed up, still staying a few feet away so Enjolras could see that he was still there.

"More than anything in this whole world." Combeferre finished quietly. "Me. I'm not going to let him hurt you, Enjolras. Ever."


	4. Chapter 4

Jehan bounced up and down as he and Enjolras walked along the small pathway that went through the woods.

"You get to talk with your dad today, Enjolras, aren't you excited? I would be excited. My dad is dead but my mom comes every week to see me. I love my mom, do you love your mom, Enjolras?"

Enjolras rubbed his eyes. "You talk too fast, Jehan Prouvaire."

Jehan giggled. "Noémi says that I also ask a lot of questions." He turned around and called behind him. "Don't I ask a lot of questions, Noémi?"

Noémi, who was walking with Combeferre a few yards away from the two, smiled and nodded. "All the time, Jehan, all the time."

"I like questions." Jehan said, turning back to Enjolras. "So are you excited to talk with you dad today?"

Enjolras shook his head. "No."

Jehan frowned. "No? Do you not like your dad, Enjolras?"

Enjolras looked away. "No. Leon Enjolras is not a good man."

* * *

"Enjolras, look at me." Combeferre said firmly to Enjolras who was sitting in the corner of his room, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his head on top of them. When he didn't respond, Combeferre signed and tried again. "Enjolras, I know you are scared but if you don't talk to him today, he will keep coming back again and again. If you speak with him today, it will be the last time you ever have to do so."

"Do you promise?" Enjolras asked, still not lifting his head.

"I promise."

Enjolras looked up at Combeferre. "He is not a good man, Combeferre."

"I know but I'm going to be with you the whole time, okay?"

"Okay, Combeferre. Can we go see Courfeyrac after I talk to Leon Enjolras?"

Combeferre nodded. "If that's what you want to do, then sure."

"That is what I want to do."

"Okay." Combeferre looked up at the clock on the wall. "We have to go now."

Enjolras groaned and covered his ears with his hands. "No, I don't want to go, Combeferre. I don't …"

Combeferre gently lowered Enjolras's arms and looked him in the eyes. "It's going to be okay."

* * *

The minute Enjolras saw his father standing in the courtyard he got behind Combeferre and refused to move forward.

"He is not a good man." Enjolras kept muttering. "Joly says to stay away and Bahorel agrees. If Bahorel agrees then I shouldn't go because Bahorel knows lots of not good men."

Combeferre turned around. "Enjolras, let's just get through this. You and me, okay? We are only going to talk to him for twenty minutes and then we are going to leave."

Enjolras wrung out his hands but nodded. The two walked towards Enjolras's father and as they got closer Combeferre could see the resemblance between the son and the father. The elder Enjolras had short, slightly curly grey hair, he was tall and thin and stood with his shoulders high and his hands behind his back. He was wearing a suit like he'd just come from a high paying job and he was slowly pacing back and forth.

"Monsieur Enjolras?" Combeferre asked when they were close to him.

The elder man snapped his head towards the two, causing the younger Enjolras to flinch and whimper very softly.

"Ah, yes. You must be Doctor Guillaume Combeferre." Leon Enjolras didn't offer a hand to shake and his cold blue eyes only briefly looked at Combeferre before staring at Enjolras, who was still standing behind Combeferre with his eyes directed intently at the ground. "I would like to speak with my son in private if I could."

Combeferre shook his head. "I'm sorry but I can't leave."

Leon Enjolras looked at Combeferre with an expression of distaste. "Then perhaps you could sit on that bench over there?"

Combeferre looked at the bench that was a few yards away and sighed. "All right."

Enjolras grabbed Combeferre's arm as he started to leave. "No, don't leave." He whispered.

Combeferre looked at him and whispered back. "I'm just going to be over there, okay? I'm going to be watching the whole thing."

Enjolras let go of Combeferre's arm as he walked away and watched him until he sat on the bench. Then he hesitantly turned his father and opened his mouth to say something.

Leon Enjolras put up his hand. "You will speak when you are spoken to."

Enjolras looked down at the ground and started to rock back and forth on his feet.

The elder Enjolras frowned. "Stop that. You look ridiculous. I have come to speak with a man, not a boy."

Enjolras tried to stop but he couldn't. "I can't help it, Leon Enjolras." He said quietly.

The old man sighed angrily. "I see that haven't even started to cure you yet."

Enjolras looked up. "Cure? I'm not sick."

"If you aren't sick then you are an abomination to this family. Do you want to be an abomination?"

Enjolras frowned. "No but … I'm not sick."

Leon shook his head. "You are, Jacob."

Enjolras flinched at the name but didn't address it. "Okay." He said quietly.

Leon reached into his pocket and drew out a piece of paper. "I came to tell you that your grandfather has died and, unfortunately, he has seen fit to leave you a large sum of money. You will sign this form that entitles all of that money over to me instead."

Enjolras stared at the form in his father's hand. "I don't want to sign that."

The elder man walked closer to Enjolras. "You will sign it. You have no concept of how much money you have been given so I will take it from here on out."

"But I was given the money, Leon Enjolras. If he gave it to me then it's mine, not yours." Anger swept over Leon's face and Enjolras instinctively took a few steps back. "I'm sorry." He said.

"Do you think you know better than I do?" Leon said, angrily taking another step towards him.

Enjolras shook his head and his eyes flicked to where Combeferre was sitting. He wanted to leave the courtyard …

Suddenly, Leon grabbed Enjolras's hand and stuffed the form in it. "You WILL sign this!"

Enjolras gasped. "Five!" He yelled and ripped his arm out of his father's grip. "Don't touch me, please, Leon Enjolras."

"How dare you!" Leon bellowed. "Do not defy me!"

Courfyerac walked out from behind Enjolras's father. "Don't let him scare you."

"You're a strong person, Enjolras." Feuilly said, coming to stand beside him.

Enjolras looked at his father and said again. "Please, do not touch me."

"I will do what I please, you damn retard!"

A red flag went up in Enjolras's mind.

"Punch him, Enjolras." Bahorel said.

Joly stood beside Bahorel. "No one can call you that."

"Do it!" Bossuet chimed in.

Before he understood what he was doing, Enjolras had pulled back his fist and will all of his force he punched his father in the jaw. Leon Enjolras reeled backwards, holding his mouth and cursing all the while.

Suddenly, Combeferre was by his side but all Enjolras could register was the overwhelming sound of Bahorel saying …

"Punch him too, Enjolras! He let your father in here in the first place!"

It all happened far to quickly and Enjolras's mind was so confused that all he remembered was seeing Combeferre stumble backwards, with blood dripping from his nose.

And then there was a sharp prick in his neck and everything went black.


End file.
